Just Like She Had Taught Him
by Fyiad
Summary: Destructive emotions can do much to a person. Guilt can destroy them. Vengeance can consume them. Regret can kill them. Yet sometimes, those same emotions can drive a person beyond their limits, letting them accomplish feats that even great people could not. After all, those with nothing to lose have everything to gain. One shot. MASSIVE SPOILERS.


He had been let through. The others, his comrades and friends, had been stopped, delayed, by her allies. Emerald, Mercury, Neo, Adam, they and more acted as a bulwark, stopping all the pieces of the other side from intruding upon the Queen's domain.

All but him.

It was understandable, all things considered. Who would expect Jaune Arc to pose much of a threat? He had barely any combat experience. He had lied his way into Beacon, forging false credentials. Hell, he hadn't even had his aura unlocked until a year or so ago.

The only thing he had going for him was the fact that he had been trained by _her_.

He wasn't really sure why the Queen had let him through. Perhaps she wanted to make an example of him. Perhaps she wanted to break his spirit. Perhaps she simply wanted to gloat, revel in her victory.

It didn't matter to him. The only things that did was that _her_ murderer was in front of him. She was saying something, he could tell that much, but he couldn't hear her. Not with the roaring of his blood in his ears. Not with the raging fire that beat in his breast. Not with the red that tinted his vision.

The sound that ripped from his mouth as he charged shouldn't have come from a human. It shouldn't have come from a beast. It shouldn't have even come from a grimm. Yet it came from him all the same.

The Queen didn't flinch. Only raised her hand, and with a bit of will, launched a ball of concentrated fire at him. It hit him and exploded, covering his body in flame. She smirked.

When he rushed out of the fire, his shield in front of him, that smirk faltered. He wasn't a fighter meant to deal heavy damage, after all. He was better at absorbing it. The fireball had been strong, but he had modified his shield. Strengthened its frame, added heat resistant materials, altered the handle so that he could brace his entire body behind it.

Just like _she_ had taught him.

The Queen threw balls of fire at him. They exploded just like the first, and Jaune charged through them, just like the first. They slowed him, the concussive waves of the explosion decreasing the speed of his charge, but they didn't stop him. Nothing could stop him now. Not with his prey in front of him.

Cinder had been cocky. She hadn't expected anyone, let alone the joke of Beacon, to be able to stand up to her powers. She grit her teeth and summoned the power of the Fall. Flames surrounded her body, and with a gesture, she launched them at the boy. He might have been able to block flames when they came directly at him, but when they surrounded him?

The flames crashed into him, combining and exploding into a ball of fire and smoke. The concussive force shattered the ground and sent the nearby rubble and material flying. A small smile appeared on the Queen's face. Nothing could have survived that.

And then Jaune charged out of the smoke, the shield of Crocea Mors in one hand.

And Akoúo̱, _her_ shield, in the other.

This time, Cinder did flinch, and Jaune capitalized on the opportunity.

Just like _she_ had taught him.

He closed the distance in seconds, reaching his range before Cinder could recover and summon more of her powers. He dropped Crocea Mors' shield, clenching his hand into a fist, and driving it directly into the Queen's face.

The Queen wasn't worried. The powers of the Fall Maiden had granted her immense powers, yes, but they had also boosted the defensive power of her aura up to astronomical levels. Ozpin himself hadn't been able to penetrate it, so why should she be worried about a punch from a boy?

So when the Queen's nose crunched under Jaune's fist and blood began to pour out, she was surprised, to say the least.

In another life, Jaune's semblance may have been related to protection. To shielding his body from all and any harm. In yet another life, his semblance may have been related to healing. To restoring life and health to the injured and wounded.

But in this life, where fury and vengeance had consumed him, a new semblance had been discovered by him.

Aura negation. The ability to completely ignore another Huntsman's natural defenses, striking their body directly.

It was not an ability that a normal Huntsman should have. Grimm had no aura, after all, so it was useless when fighting against them. It was not a semblance meant for the defense of people, or the self. It was not a semblance meant to help or heal.

It was a Semblance meant for killing, for hunting Huntsman. A cursed Semblance.

But at that moment, as his fist rammed into the Queen's face, Jaune couldn't have cared less.

He stepped into the blow, wrapping the same arm around the Queen and driving her to ground. She grunted at the impact and began to bring up her arm, trying to reach him, to summon her aura, to smite him for his insolence.

He didn't let her. Akoúo̱'s edge slammed into her side, right on the floating ribs. A strangled cry of pain came from her mouth, and despite himself, Jaune smiled.

The Queen was a caster, and was superior to him in range. It was why he had closed the distance so desperately. Why he had risked life and limb diving through those fireballs and explosions. But here, on the ground, grappled, she was weak.

It was the natural enemy of ranged opponents after all. At distance they were strong, but most of that strength was negated at close range, where they ended up slower and losing much of their abilities. If a melee fighter could get in that range and kept up a relentless assault, those ranged enemies had little chance.

Just like _she_ had taught him.

Jaune straddled the Queen and began to rain down blows upon her. His fists slammed into her face, breaking bones and cartilage. Constant pain made it hard for the enemy to focus enough to summon their aura, after all.

Jaune would be lying if he said that was the only reason he was attacking her like this. With each blow, memories of _her_ came to his mind.

A punch, and he remembered the taste of the water _she_ had given him during one of their training sessions. He had been sweaty and tired, and _she_ had driven him raw. _She_ had never been unfair though. _She_ brought him to his limits, but it was to make him stronger.

A strength that was now pointless.

A punch, and he remembered the feel of the dress he had worn to the dance. He had made good on his bet, and it was at that time that he had understood about how _she_ had felt. About some things, at least. At that dance, as the two of them had moved, he had felt happiness.

A happiness that had been taken from him.

A punch, and he remembered the touch of _her_ hand, the feel of _her_ lips on his. He remembered the confusion in his mind, followed by disbelief, then realization. He remembered _her_ push and the understanding of what _she_ was about to do. He remembered all the missed opportunities, the could-have-beens, and he felt regret.

A regret that now consumed him.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, the flickering of something. He reacted instinctively, raising Akoúo̱ and driving it down onto the Queen's hand, which, up that point, had been summoning flames. He had expected something like this, an enemy isn't helpless until they're dead after all.

Just like _she_ had taught him.

He stopped his blows, just long enough to draw the blade of Crocea Mors that was strapped to his hip, and ram the tip of it straight through the Queen's hand, pinning it to ground. With a quick movement, he did the same to her other hand with a knife. She made a noise that, in any other situation, would have been a cry of pain. Now, all she could do was croak.

As soon as she was securely pinned, Jaune continued the rain of blows. He knew his friends wouldn't approve of this. He knew that _she_ wouldn't approve of this. Revenge was a fool's errand. _She_ had told him as much. The desire for vengeance consumed you, making you think of nothing but inflicting suffering and pain upon the person of your ire.

 _She_ had told him stories. Stories of how dozens of skilled Huntsman had found their ends because of their lust for revenge. _She_ wouldn't have wanted him to live this way. _She_ would have wanted him to find happiness, to be free and live well. To create a full life without _her._

For the first time, he ignored _her_ lesson.

His hands were stained in blood now. Whether it was because of the Queen's wounds or his broken knuckles, he couldn't tell. There was an iron taste in his mouth, and he could feel wet splatters on his face. Yet even still, the roar in his ears and the fire in his heart hadn't abated.

One of his elbows brushed a piece of metal that was strapped to his waist, and he grabbed it instinctively, raising it high. A sunbeam that cascaded through a hole in the roof hit it, causing it to sparkle, drawing both of the combatants eyes to it.

For a fraction of a second, both of them gazed upon Miló. _Her_ blade. The blade that _she_ had used to win championships. The blade that _she_ had used to save Jaune's life that day he was launched into the forest. The blade that _she_ had used in defense of Remnant, and the blade that Jaune had carried with him for so long.

And then, with one swift motion, he rammed it into the Queen's heart.

A strangled gasp escaped her lips. The ethereal orange glow of her aura flared briefly, becoming bright enough to light the room, then faded utterly.

For a moment, Jaune did nothing but gasp as ragged breaths escaped his lips. His eyes stared down at the cooling body beneath him and the blade that had been plunged into its heart. His body began to shake, shivering and quaking.

Then he raised his face upwards and _screamed._

A dozen emotions escaped with that scream. Rage and pain. Guilt and suffering. Grief and agony. He screamed and screamed and screamed to the heavens. He screamed at the vengeance he had achieved. He screamed at the injustice of it all. He screamed for the life he could have lived, for the woman he could have loved.

When his friends found him a few hours later, he was no longer screaming. Instead, he had devolved into tears, wet sobs echoing through the now silent room. His face was a mess, covered with a mixture of tears, snot, and the Queen's blood.

They had embraced him, not saying anything, but letting their silent empathy show through their actions. Gently, they managed to persuade him to get up and walk to their temporary camp.

Ren had helped him get cleaned up, washing the viscera of combat and Jaune's own emotions off him. Both of them were silent the entire time. No words were needed between the two friends, after all. Ren may not have approved of what Jaune did, but he could at least understand why he did it.

After all, there wasn't a person in team RWBY or JNPR who didn't adore _her._

That night, after ridding himself of the day's efforts and mess, Jaune went to bed, exhausted and tired. As his head hit the pillow, _she_ entered his jumbled thoughts. He remembered _her_ smile, the way _her_ laugh sounded, the way the wind flowed through _her_ hair.

And for once, those thoughts of _her_ weren't tinged with sadness or guilt.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Jaune Arc slept a peaceful sleep without nightmares.

* * *

Is this fic realistic? No. Would that battle play out like this? Almost certainly not. Did it feel good to write? _Damn fucking straight._

I have been a fan of Roosterteeth for a long time. I've watched RvB during its early days, and I remember seeing the trailers for RWBY and getting hyped. Ever since I started watching it, it's been a series that's been dear to my heart, and this recent season finale hit me hard. I wrote this as a way to cope and let out my emotions, so forgive me if it's not to your liking.

Thank you for reading.


End file.
